


Big Blue Eyes

by toesohnoes



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-24
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-31 15:52:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toesohnoes/pseuds/toesohnoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott never had to wear his visor. Without anything to hide behind, he's a lot more open when he meets Logan for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written at my [Tumblr](http://toestastegood-fic.tumblr.com/post/18021492443/logan-is-still-trying-to-find-his-feet-at-the).

Logan is still trying to find his feet at the Institute; he’s not sure if he plans on staying here, doubts if he’ll manage to keep his head down for long. Xavier is all kind smiles and soft words, but Logan has had people try to mentor him before. It always end badly. It usually ends with dead bodies.

Walking through the grounds with the afternoon’s sun on his face, it’s tempting to be a little more optimistic. The people here might be naive, but they’re well-meaning. For a couple of days that can be enough.

He’s lost in his thoughts, but he’s not far-gone enough not to notice when he comes upon another person - especially another adult, which is rare enough around this place. Sitting on a bench in the shade, there is one of the prettiest men he’s ever come across. Logan is fairly sure that he can use that word in a purely objective sense; he’s damn beautiful.

And now he’s looking straight at Logan, because Logan had halted his walking when he caught sight of him.

And now he’s smiling, wide and unrestrained, as if the sight of Logan is actually a good thing.

Jesus Christ.

The man gets to his feet and walks towards him, which leaves Logan staring into a pair of impossibly blue eyes. He feels heat flash through him, the almost inescapable urge to pull him forward and touch and taste everything that’s in front of him. He has to curl his hands into fists at his side, his expression pained; he hasn’t had this much trouble with his animal instincts in a long time. What the hell?

“You must be Wolverine, right?” the man says. “I’m Scott. The Professor told us you were here.”

Scott. Logan vaguely remembers the name, but his discussion with Xavier had mostly involved him throwing around withering insults while Xavier tried to persuade him that this was the safest place for him to be. Logan hadn’t been paying attention to any of the specifics.

He’s damn well paying attention now.

Scott holds his hand out and Logan shakes it, still trying to find his tongue. He isn’t used to being this easily knocked off of his game. Maybe he hasn’t been around people for too long.

“We’re happy to have you here. How long do you think you’ll be around?”

Looking into Scott’s eyes, which are so bright and so open, Logan can’t imagine that he’s going to be able to leave for a long time yet - not until he sees how Scott looks wrung-out and begging for him.

He gives a half-shrug. “I’m staying as long as I have to,” he answers.

He doesn’t say that the length of his stay might just rely on Scott; he’ll leave him to figure that one out for himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written at my [Tumblr](http://toestastegood-fic.tumblr.com/post/25517230654/previously-logan-met-a-scott-summers-without-his).

Logan has been tracking Scott around the mansion - not obviously, not purposefully, but his senses allow him to always be aware of where he is. Usually, and unsurprisingly, he is in one of the classrooms boring their students until their brains dribble out through their ears. Mutant or not, no teenager wants to learn about the imagery in John Donne’s poetry. Logan could guarantee that.

Then again, when your teacher is as easy on the eyes as Scott is, maybe it’s possible to reconsider.

Logan lingers outside Scott’s classroom, his hearing focused on the sound of Scott’s voice as he assigns homework for the day. Good. That must mean that class is nearly over. Only moments later, the crack of the bell indicates that it’s lunch time for the kids - only moments later, Logan is nearly run down by a stampede of students eager to get the hell out of there.

He waits until the last one has passed by, and then he slips into the classroom. The door remains open, sacrificing all hints of privacy, and as soon as Logan catches sight of Scott at his desk he regrets that. Most of the things that he’d like to do to this man would require a lot of privacy if they didn’t want to scar the students for life.

Scott glances up at him, the sharp blue of his eyes enough to send a jolt through Logan. No one is supposed to have eyes like that, too quick and bright. Logan feels like he can hardly dare to hold his gaze, especially as he now knows the power that Scott holds in his eyes. Scott’s self-control is the only thing that stops him from levelling the entire mansion. That’s the kind of power that humans are right to be afraid of.

“Can I help?” Scott asks.

“It’s lunch,” Logan says. He brushes his fingertips over one of the classroom’s desks, coming closer to Scott. “Thought you might want some company.”

“I’ve got a lot of marking to do. Most of the class actually handed their work in on time for once.” Scott doesn’t smile, but there’s a hint of levity in his voice that Logan doesn’t get to hear often enough. “I’d invite you to stay, but it’ll be quite boring.”

That is the only opening that Logan needs. He parks his butt on the edge of Scott’s desk and snatches one of the papers from the top of the pile. “Sounds fun. I can see just how dumb the little twerps are.”

Scott frowns at him, but Logan can see the twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips. That’s enough for him to work with. “If you’re good I might give you a red pen,” Scott says. “You can traumatise my students first-hand.”

Logan grunts. They share their lunch hour, and Scott offers up half of the sandwiches he had brought with him. Apparently braving the kitchen at this time of day is like going into a war-zone.

By the end of the hour, when Scott’s next class is beginning to shuffle in restlessly, Scott’s papers have all been marked. All least three of them have a frustrated red scrawl in every single margin, warning them to try better next time ‘bub’. One poor child’s paper has a set of claw marks in it.


End file.
